


Fatal Error

by thisbluespirit



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 500 prompts, Explosions, Ficlet, Gen, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 22:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12375132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: Letting the strangers go had clearly been a mistake…





	Fatal Error

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



> Written for Persiflage in the 500 Prompts meme, for prompt 12 Why didn't we detain them? - Twelve & Clara.

The governor of the detention facility watched the building go up in flames. Letting the strangers go had clearly been a mistake, but one it was now much too late to correct.

 

He had observed their interrogation personally: fruitless accusations and denials back and forth through the one-sided viewscreen, until the man had turned, as if to look at him.

“I’m the Doctor, and this is my friend Clara. We’ve come to shut you down.”

_Do they have weapons?_ he’d asked the Captain over the comms; speaking via the wire directly mind to mind, silent and unheard by the prisoners.

_No, sir: we found a number of harmless, childish objects, and one unknown device, but it appears to be sonic. Tech don’t think it’s a weapon._

_Confiscate that permanently._

The Governor had looked through the glass. The two of them were small, soft, oddly dressed, and weaponless. He had decided it was another joke, another staged protest. It would not be the first time the Freedom Movement had tried something like this. Using off-worlders – aliens – was a nice touch. Detaining them might cause trouble with their home-world. Providing the galaxy with proof, the dissidents would say.

He made his error: _Lock them up again, but give it another hour and let them go._ They could die on the way out, if necessary.

***

“They can’t say I didn’t warn them,” said the Doctor, as he and Clara ran raggedly across the sandy terrain. “You heard me. I warned them. Terrible place, anyway. Don’t know what else they expected me to do.”

“Yes,” said Clara. “You tried.”

“Funny that. Almost every time I tell the truth no one believes me.”

They dived over the nearest sand dune together as more explosions happened somewhere in the distance; a roar and a shuddering that echoed across the plain.

“Well,” said Clara, after she’d got the sand out of her mouth, “when the truth is ‘hi, I’m a time travelling alien who’s come to free all your prisoners’ you can see why they might not.”

“Their war had been over for years. What were they keeping them _for_? Nothing to be scared of any more. You’d think.”

Clara shrugged. “People can be like that. Even when they’re aliens, I suppose.”

“The universe is full of pudding brains.”

Clara grabbed at his hand, scrabbling to her feet and pulling him after. “Pudding brains with guns. Doctor!”

An energy shot blazed across the air to one side of them.

“You know,” said the Doctor, as they ran again, “I don’t think they like us very much! Run!”

“I am!”

“Well, run faster; are those the best legs you’ve got?”

Clara saved her breath and glared.

“Yes, sorry – it’s not your fault, that’s genetics for you.” He came to a halt as he reached the TARDIS. “You know what, Clara? I think they singed my jacket!” 

Clara pushed him forwards into it, before it was more than a Time Lord’s jacket that got singed.

Two seconds later, they were both inside. Outside, the guards continued firing at the TARDIS. Not having any apparent effect didn’t seem to deter them much.

“They really, really don’t like us,” said Clara.

“Not very friendly, no.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

The Doctor put his hand onto the console, ready to flick the necessary switches. He grinned suddenly. “Yes. Where next?”

 

***

The Governor spent a very long time in search of them, determined to rectify his mistake. Not that he had a great deal of choice. His superiors weren’t prepared to move him on to a better post after this catastrophe.

He sent his soldiers into the mountains and the caves. He even sifted through the sands of the plains. There was never any sign of them, nor the blue box the guards had described – the one they had said had disappeared in front of them.

Nevertheless, he thought grimly, he had all the time he needed to put that right, and all the space afforded by a barren world, empty of its unfortunate prisoners – prisoners whose escape onto the waiting ship above had caused a political incident worlds away.

A lifetime, perhaps.


End file.
